


introduction to holiday decorating

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Cheek Kisses, Christmas, Christmas Tree, Connor is trying his best, Established Relationship, Fluff, Holding Hands, M/M, Post-Pacifist Ending, mentions of minor character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 12:30:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17080364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: Markus leaned into him, knocked their shoulders together. “You haven’t seen me decorate yet.”“I don’t need to.” Connor didn’t know much about decorating trees or holiday traditions, not beyond the office Christmas parties Hank kept dragging him to because if he’sgotta suffer then so do you, Connor, that’s just the way being partners works, sorry I don’t make the rules. But he had a pretty good idea that it wasn’t really about how perfect or artistic the ornaments looked. “I already know.”





	introduction to holiday decorating

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the cute as hell [holiday prompt thing](https://detroitbecomehuman.dreamwidth.org/5644.html) going on over at the DBH DW comm.

Connor couldn’t figure out at first what was bothering Markus. As far as he could tell, everything was just fine in Detroit. Crisp, pristine weather, an elegant dusting of snow that looked pretty but didn’t freeze Connor’s joints or turn the city’s streets into a home for wayward drivers trying unsuccessfully to untotal their cars because they thought they knew better than their vehicles that carried specific subroutines for handling icy conditions and had turned off the very useful self-driving mode in their hubris. Even Gavin couldn’t complain and Gavin always found reasons to complain, especially around the holidays, about anything and everything he could think of. Instead, he’d been suspiciously quiet on every front, even going so far as to drink some of the cider someone had brought in instead of the jet fuel masquerading as coffee he usually took. It was nice. Possibly a little too nice, but Connor wasn’t about to take a page out of Gavin’s book on this one and poke at things that didn’t need poking. He wasn’t going to complain in Gavin’s stead.

It was probably the simplest December he’d passed so far. Of course, it was only his second, but at least he had something to compare it to. Which just made it all the more frustrating when he came home and found Markus staring at the living room like it had done something to offend him.

“Uh,” Connor said, pulling the scarf from around his neck and running his fingers through his hair to clear the flurries, “hi?” It was a good thing he hadn’t barged into the house the way he sometimes did, glad to be home, because he would have run right into Markus and knocked him to the floor. Not that Markus seemed to notice. He just turned his head, a frown on his mouth, and said, “Do you think we need a tree?”

Connor bit back his first response, which was _no, what are we going to do with a tree_. It was a knee-jerk question, his immediate thought going to wondering if Markus had suddenly developed a taste for indoor gardening, because he still wasn’t used to the idea that Christmas was a thing that people celebrated, often with trees. Trees they kept in their houses. Perhaps he could be forgiven for that. Nobody Connor knew was celebrating Christmas last year for obvious reasons, so his frame of reference was limited. But then again, there was no escaping the holiday this year, like everyone had decided to rub it in everyone else’s faces that it was going to be different this year. Bigger. Better. To make up for last year.

About the only person who didn’t make a big deal out of it was Hank. And now that Connor thought about it, he wondered if that was for a reason. Swallowing, he looked at the floor and stamped his feet against the rug, mud and melting snow collecting beneath his boots. One day, he’d get the hang of human emotions, their vagaries and hidden eddies, and he hoped on that day he would know what to do about them. But in the meantime, he’d just mentally curse Hank for being an asshole, even if a clever one. 

He could’ve just said he was lonely instead. Connor would happily have done something about it. Or tried anyway.

“Yes,” Connor said, hopefully quickly enough that Markus wouldn’t realize the mental gymnastics he’d just had to put himself through in order to reach a conclusion that any human could’ve reached instinctively. He pointed toward the corner by the window and hoped Markus knew more about getting Christmas trees than Connor did, because he didn’t want to ask Hank for help until he confirmed what Hank’s issue was. Hank wasn’t normally quiet about his grief, if that was what this was; the thought that it was possible made Connor trepidatious. “It’d look good there.”

Markus smiled, making each and every hoop Connor might have to jump through worth it. There was a knowing edge to it, like he could read Connor’s thoughts and was well aware of just how bad at this Connor was, but warmth, too, fondness even, something Connor hadn’t even known to want or expect until it had been given to him. “I thought so, too.”

Which was how, three hours and a trip to multiple stores later, they ended up with a tree in their living room and no real idea what to do with it.

At least, that was Connor’s experience of the event. Markus seemed to be doing just fine, sorting through the ornaments they’d picked up while Connor watched, fascinated. “How do you even—?” But this was shoddy investigative work. Never, ever ask a question without knowing the information you were looking for. Or at least suspecting it existed. But Connor wasn’t even sure why he was asking, let alone what he was expecting to hear. Clamping his mouth shut, he willed himself to look less overwhelmed than he felt.

He was not going to consult the internet for this. Absolutely not. Even if it would be nice to know what he was supposed to be doing instead of standing here being useless while what Markus was actually doing seemed useful.

Markus lifted his head, his hands braced on his knees. ”Hmm?”

Connor cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. Instead of answering with words, he gestured at the stuff that seemed, as though by magic, to be replicating around Markus. He would’ve sworn a few minutes ago that they hadn’t bought this much stuff, yet here they were and yes, they did. Was all of it supposed to go on the tree? How would it all fit? That wasn’t really what he wanted to know either, but he still didn’t know how to ask for what he wanted to know specifically. He still _didn’t know_.

“Ah,” Markus said. “Carl used to have me help him put the trees up in his house. I suppose I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was nice. When I first came to him, he did most of it himself, but as he grew sicker, he asked me to do more of it.” Though Connor would have thought this a sad memory, Markus looked pleased, happy. “Or, well. He told me where to put all the decorations and said he was teaching me artistic life skills.” He scrubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “Carl was always doing stuff like that. Trying to get me to see beyond my programming. Supposedly I have an eye for it.” At this, he rolled his eyes, good-natured. “I think Carl was just saying that, but…”

Markus shrugged and wouldn’t quite meet Connor’s eyes. And that just wouldn’t do. Markus had no reason to be embarrassed or whatever it was that made him feel like he had to look away.

“That sounds nice.” Connor was no less overwhelmed than before, but at least now he understood why Markus wanted to do this. Connor could see the appeal even if he had no personal experience with it himself. There was no Carl in his past who encouraged the better parts of himself to greatness. No. Instead, he’d had Amanda, who only wanted him to be what she’d made him into and nothing more. Even so, he was glad Markus had this. It was far better than what he might have experienced otherwise. “I bet he was right.”

Huffing in amusement, Markus got back to rummaging in the boxes and plastic containers. In short order, there were piles of identical ornaments laid out in piles, neat and orderly. “I guess we’ll see.” Markus’s attention fell to his palms and his voice grew distant in a way Connor had never learned how to bridge. One day maybe, but not yet; he was working on it. “This’ll be the first year I won’t have him to tell me I’m putting things in the wrong place.”

“I’d be willing to bet I won’t know the difference,” Connor said, mostly joking. As long as Markus was happy with it, Connor couldn’t have cared less what the tree looked like. Approaching slowly enough that Markus had time to indicate whether he wanted Connor to come closer or not, Connor crouched next to him, braced his hand on the wide, comforting expanse of Markus’s shoulder. “I think Carl would be happy to know you were carrying on the tradition.”

Markus leaned into him, knocked their shoulders together. “You haven’t seen me decorate yet.”

“I don’t need to.” Connor didn’t know much about decorating trees or holiday traditions, not beyond the office Christmas parties Hank kept dragging him to because if he’s _gotta suffer then so do you, Connor, that’s just the way being partners works, sorry I don’t make the rules_. But he had a pretty good idea that it wasn’t really about how perfect or artistic the ornaments looked. “I already know.”

Rolling his eyes again, Markus shook his head. “Okay, fine.” He climbed to his feet and reached out to help Connor up. “You win. And that means you’re going to have to help.”

Connor’s eyes widened. If there was anyone in this house who had no business hanging shiny baubles on a tree, it was Connor. He should definitely stay away from the thing. “Shouldn’t I get to decide that?”

“Nah.” Bending over, Markus picked up a sparkling gold sphere and held it out for Connor. “I insist. You get to draw first blood.”

Connor looked over at the tree, eyes narrowed. His nerves, ridiculous though it was to be nervous, jangled inside of him. And just when he had the good idea to preconstruct, Markus shook his head and said, “None of that. Just pick a spot and go.”

Connor opened his mouth to respond, but Markus shoved him toward the tree. After staring at the branches for long, arduous minutes, he finally did as Markus asked. Markus, coming up beside him, placed another ornament, near to Connor’s but much better placed. When Connor reached for his own to move it, Markus slapped his hand away. “It’s fine where it is. Now go get another one.”

“Was Carl this exacting to you when you and he did this?” Connor asked, grabbing another, a glinting star in a similar shade of gold. It twirled in his hand from the loop of string wrapped around his finger. It was easier, somehow, to put this one on the tree. And the next and the next and the next. Each one was easier.

After a while—not long enough, in Connor’s opinion, as time seemed to past too quickly all of a sudden—the tree looked like something Connor might have seen on television. It looked nothing at all like the tree that decorated the station. That one carried all sorts of strange, not particularly seasonal decorations, a mishmash of styles as a result of so many different people bringing stuff in and depositing it, haphazard, in the branches. Like water pistols and shiny fake pickles hung with hooks and fish for reasons that confounded Connor still. So many fish. Connor had never asked why, but now he was even more confused when instead the tree could have looked like this.

“It’s pretty,” he said, ponderous. “I like it.”

“You say that like you’re surprised,” Markus answered.

The truth was he might’ve been a little bit surprised. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Markus, he did. But he hadn’t thought it was possible that he could be a part of something like this. It was silly to be touched, to be so pleased by a tree covered in stuff. But he was touched and he was pleased and as he slipped his hand into Markus’s, he brushed a kiss across Markus’s cheek and was even more happy when Markus ducked his head to hide a smile.

Connor still didn’t understand exactly, but that didn’t matter in the slightest. What mattered still was how Markus felt about it and from how slyly he was trying to hide his feelings, Connor knew he was at least as moved as Connor by their work. And over something so small. It boggled Connor to think on it.

It shouldn’t have been so easy, Connor thought for a moment, a silly notion if ever there was one. So many things about being with Markus were easy. Even when everything else in life was difficult, this one thing… it was good. Always good.

And this was no different.

Markus squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

“No,” Connor answered, “thank you.”


End file.
